


Home for the Holidays

by Freebirdflying



Series: At Home with the Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Family, First Times, Fluff, Johnlock mention, M/M, Mistletoe, Mystrade Advent Calendar 2017, New Relationship, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson mentioned - Freeform, Traditions, family finds out, fluffy fluff, mystrade, reactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freebirdflying/pseuds/Freebirdflying
Summary: Mycroft and Greg have spent the past few weeks in a dreamy little world of their own, basking in the glow of their brand-new relationship.  The time has come, however, to face the world (and more scarily, their families) again, this time as a couple. It might be too soon, but it's Christmas!





	Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> First, thank you so much to [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemothurl) for letting me squeeze in a super last minute addition to the Mystrade Advent Calendar! The calendar has been amazing; I've read so many great new fics and have several marked to read over the holiday. 
> 
> Okay, so. This fic is actually a sequel to a long, slow-burn Mystrade fic that I am writing; it’s almost done and I hope to start posting it in January. However, I had this idea for a Christmas fic, and the muse hit, and here we are with 5600 words of seasonal fluff. I decided to go ahead and submit this for the Mystrade Advent Calendar as I think it stands on its own well enough. There are a couple of mentions of Greg surviving being kidnapped about a month before this fic takes place; all you need to know that is that Mycroft saved him and then snogged him senseless. :)

They’d only been together since the first week of November. Friends for years, sure, but you don’t introduce the mate you chat over coffee with to your parents. Sisters don’t interrogate the guy you meet with to discuss his brother’s drug habits. Brothers don’t suddenly develop an entire repertoire of goldfish-themed jokes about the bloke you had fish and chips with last month. 

But a lover? A boyfriend? A partner? Hoo, boy. The parents and sisters would certainly want to meet and interrogate _him_ if they knew of his existence. The brother in question, of course, already knew, because he’s inconveniently observant, incurably nosy, and inescapably _present_ at the oddest moments. 

In the normal course of a relationship, Greg thought, he would not be even considering whether to _mention_ his current relationship to his family after barely over a month, much less contemplating _introductions_. But in this case...well, it would be Christmas soon. And this wasn’t just another handful of dates that would likely fall apart when he got caught up in the next big case. This was...well. Maybe it was because their relationship seemed such a natural progression of the friendship that had grown slowly over the years. Maybe it was because they were old enough to know what they wanted from a partner. Maybe it was the dramatic circumstances of the kidnapping Mycroft had rescued Greg from that had reminded them that life was too short to waste time. Maybe it was fate. 

Whatever it was, Greg knew, even just a few weeks after the first time they kissed, that this relationship was important and solid and likely to last a long time. Even so...family? Christmas? 

Greg stuck a finger in the book he’d been pretending to read and rested it on his lap.

“Mycroft?” 

“Hmmm?” 

Mycroft glanced up from the book on the impact of the Norman Invasion on the English language that he was reading in his armchair by the fire. It was Friday night; they’d met at Mycroft’s after work and shared Indian takeaway before settling in to read by the fire until one of them (probably Greg) got bored and started a game of footsie that would lead to groping each other on the stairs on the way to the bedroom for an adventurous round of exciting new-relationship sex before falling asleep early after the stress of the week. 

They weren’t living together, much too soon for that, but they had spent the four previous weekends holed up at one or the other’s flat pretending that they did until Monday morning brought them back to reality with an unpleasant lurch. 

“What are your plans for Christmas?” 

Mycroft lowered his book and poured a bit more scotch in his glass as he answered.

“I usually spend Christmas Day at my parents’ home, unless there is a major crisis that gets me out of, ahem, sadly prevents me from attending.” 

Greg just rolled his eyes. Anti-social bastards, these Holmes. 

“I had not yet considered what I might do this year; generally, I do not make social engagements too far in advance due to the capricious nature of my work commitments.” 

“Nah, you just put off committing hoping something will come along that you can use as an excuse to skive off.” Greg grinned. 

“You know me quite well, my dear.” Mycroft just looked at him fondly rather than trying to deny it. “How do you traditionally celebrate the season in your family?” 

“Well, ever since we grew up and my sisters and I married, we’ve been doing an alternating year thing.” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow, and Greg continued. “Every other year we all spend Christmas Day with Mum and Dad, and the other years we spend with our in-laws while Mum and Dad go to her sister’s. The years we spend Christmas with the in-laws, we have a Lestrade Family party some other day, on Boxing Day or New Year’s Day, or whatever works for everyone that year. The biggest factors are my work schedule and whether Beth and her husband have gone to stay with his parents, who live in Aberdeen, or if his parents have come down here.” 

“And this year is?” 

“In-law year. But Beth texted me this afternoon to tell me that they’re not going to Scotland this year, so they’re thinking of Boxing Day with Mum and Dad if I’m free that day.” 

“And are you?” 

“As far as work goes, I can be. The last few years I’ve volunteered to work extra hours around the holidays so that those with young kids could have more time, so no one will begrudge me taking the days I want.” 

_The last few years...since the divorce_ , Mycroft correctly understood. 

“So, work’s not a problem,” Greg continued. “But...before I respond to her, I was wondering...have you told your family about us yet?” 

Mycroft put a marker in his book and set it on the table by his chair. 

“I mean, if you have or haven’t, I’m not fussed, I just wondered if…” 

“No, I have not yet advised them of this change in my circumstances. Not because I wish to hide our association,” he was quick to add, “but more that I have hardly thought of anyone else these past weeks. When you are here, it feels like we are in a warm cocoon and the rest of the world irrelevant.” 

“Oh, love.” Most of their acquaintances would peg Mycroft as the least romantic man in London, but his gift with words made for the most poetic endearments Greg had ever heard. He stood and reached his hands down for Mycroft’s. Mycroft allowed himself to be pulled up and led over to the sofa, where he was kissed soundly before being pushed down. 

Once they were settled, thigh to thigh with Greg tucked under Mycroft’s arm, Greg continued the conversation. 

“I haven’t told my folks yet, either. I’m not hiding us, either; I’ve just been enjoying this time with just the two of us without anyone asking questions or anything.” 

He took Mycroft’s free hand in both of his own in his lap. “I know we’ve only been together a few weeks, and normally I wouldn’t mention someone I’m dating so soon, but you...this...this is something special, isn’t it?” 

Mycroft answered by snuffling through his hair a bit before kissing his temple. 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to tell them. I don’t think I could make it through Christmas without it being completely obvious that something big’s happened in my life.” 

“I am amenable to letting our relationship be known. I enjoy our peaceful evenings at home, but I also look forward to showing you off.” 

Greg laughed and turned to rub his nose along Mycroft’s jaw. 

“Christ. All your political people are going to think you have extremely odd taste in trophy wives.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, you’d look quite fetching in pearls and heels…” This earned Mycroft an elbow in the side. Once he’d stopped laughing at Greg’s mock-offended face, he continued, “My dear, I would be proud to be seen in the company of such an attractive man as yourself.” 

Greg ducked his eyes, but squeezed Mycroft’s hand a bit harder. 

“Alright then, I’m going to tell my family about us. Do you think you will, or do you think it would be best to wait until after the holidays?” Greg didn’t want to assume anything about the proper way of doing things in the Holmes family; after all, if Sherlock was any example…

“Now that I am thinking on the subject, I sincerely doubt I will have a choice in whether my parents learn that I am in a relationship. Sherlock and John will likely be present for Christmas dinner, and I don’t have to impress on _you_ the likelihood of my brother commenting on my personal life.” 

“Ha, well, that’s certainly true. The git, he’d throw you under the bus the moment someone asked him a question he didn’t want to answer.” 

“Quite. So it might be prudent for me to explain the situation to my parents in advance so at least the news can be a proper announcement in a manner that I choose.” 

Greg nodded and rested his head on Mycroft’s shoulder, continuing to stroke the hand he still held in his lap. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. 

“My?” Greg lifted his head a bit but didn’t look up. “Would you...and this is just an idea; if you don’t want to that’s fine, I don’t want to rush anything, but...would you want to _meet_ my family?” 

Mycroft froze for a second. Why had he not considered this possibility, nay, likelihood, that would be brought by the festive season? He was ever-prepared, always analyzing his future course of action in advance, rarely surprised by a turn of events. He should procure intelligence on the involved parties, analyze the possible results of the encounter, plan the optimum…

The movement of Greg’s body as he twisted to look up into his face brought him back into the moment. Greg’s expression was just beginning to fade from hope to fear that he’d overstepped the boundaries of this still-so-new relationship. That would never do.

“You _want_ your family to meet me?” Mycroft’s voice sounded a bit smaller than he’d intended. 

“Of _course_ I do. You’re incredible, you know.” Greg smiled up at his boyfriend. 

“I am not sure that I have the skills to make myself popular in a social setting of this sort.” Fortunately, Greg knew him well enough by this point to realize that it was insecurity and not unwillingness that was causing him to stall. 

“ _I_ like you in social settings, and they will too.” 

“Will they be...surprised that you are in a relationship with another man?” 

“Maybe a bit, but they are aware that I’m bisexual. I had a couple of boyfriends when I was in my twenties. They fussed a bit at first, but more out of concern for the difficulties I might face from society--right around the end of the Thatcher years, you know--than from any real problem with it themselves. It’s come up a few times over the years; I wanted them to understand that just because I dated predominantly women after I joined the MET--you know how it was then; it seemed the easiest way at the time--that my attraction to men wasn’t just some phase I’d outgrown. Beth’s best friend is a particularly vocal lesbian, so they’ve learned a lot from being around her, too. So, yes, they’ll be a bit surprised at first because it’s been so long since I introduced them to anyone at all, but they won’t have a problem with you being a man.” 

Mycroft was relieved at this; attending a Christmas party with strangers would be much more comfortable if the hosts weren’t glaring at him behind Gregory’s back. 

“And your family?” 

“My parents will be extremely surprised that I am in a significant relationship at all, but if I am they would assume it to be with a man. My mother is a very observant woman; Sherlock and I came by that skill naturally. I believe that she saw the signs that my interest was in men before I quite understood myself on the matter. And while not to the extreme that Sherlock professes, our parents are remarkably less concerned with the opinions of others than most of their age and background.” 

“Well, I’m glad they won’t give you any shit about it.” 

“On the contrary, they will be nauseatingly cheerful, and they will insist on meeting you once I have apprised them of your existence. Since your family celebration will be held on Boxing Day, would you be amenable to spending Christmas Day with my parents?” 

“I would love to meet them, but don’t feel you have to invite me just because I invited you. Every family is different, and I understand if it’s not something you’re ready to do.” 

“I had not requested your presence earlier only because I had not yet considered the situation. Now that I have, I have come to the conclusion that having you there would improve the festivities dramatically. Otherwise, I’ll spend the day with my mother fussing at me for _not_ having produced you for her to interrogate while Sherlock works as many goldfish references into the conversation as possible. 

“Interrogation, huh?” Greg smiled, albeit a bit weakly. Most mothers would be curious about their child’s new partner, but a _Holmes_ mother? It was entirely possible Mycroft wasn’t joking. 

“Don’t worry, Gregory.” Mycroft answered brightly. “It won’t hurt at all. She’ll insist you have a second bowl of trifle and a few more biscuits and by the time you start to feel sick, she’ll know about that motorcycle you bought at eighteen and which Dr Who you prefer. She’s fond of the tenth doctor if you want to endear yourself.” 

“I suppose I can survive the combination of trifle and Dr Who,” he laughed, leaning in for a quick kiss. 

“So, Christmas Day with my parents in Sussex, and Boxing Day with yours in Dagenham?” 

“I am amenable to the proposition,” Greg giggled, teasing Mycroft a bit for his big words. 

Mycroft just rolled his eyes and squeezed him a bit tighter. 

“Where exactly do yours live?” Greg pulled out his phone. 

“Ardingly is the closest town, if you are calculating distances.” 

“It’s only an hour and twenty minute drive from your parents’ to mine, so it’s certainly doable, if you don’t mind two days in a row of people.” 

“Gregory.” Mycroft squeezed him a bit tighter. “I admit, I am often fatigued by extended periods of social interaction. However, I sincerely want to meet your family, and for you to see that Sherlock is an anomaly and not representative of all of my relations.” 

The kiss Greg gave him was returned enthusiastically, and no more was said about Christmas as they moved on to the groping-on-the-stairs portion of the evening. 

*****

On Monday evening, Mycroft settled into his chair in his home office just after dinner with a well-earned scotch. He drank it slowly, tracing patterns on the desktop with the fingertips of his free hand as he stared unseeingly at the carpet beyond. 

_Christmas with Gregory._ He had felt quite uncertain when Gregory had first brought up the idea of spending the holidays with their families. Three days later he still wasn’t quite at ease; both introducing his lover to his own family and being introduced in turn within the space of two days was enough to warrant a bit of nerves. What if the Lestrades did not like him? He had never been popular as a social companion. Would Gregory rethink their relationship if they did not approve? He supposed, though, that he had little real cause for worry from his family; Gregory was already well-acquainted with Sherlock, to the point of considering him a friend. The worst his parents were likely to do was gush a bit and ask rather personal questions, which would certainly not be anything worse than Sherlock had already deduced loudly and publicly. 

He sat the scotch down and picked up his phone. He looked at for a moment while gathering his thoughts before tapping on his parents’ number. His mother answered after four rings.

“Mycroft, dear!” 

“Mummy. I hope you are well.” 

“Oh, we’re just fine here; we’re tucked in by the fire on this chilly evening. I’ve just been poking through my recipes deciding what we should have for Christmas this year, and your father is watching a film.” 

“That sounds like a pleasant evening.” 

“I suppose you are calling to tell us that you’re desperately needed in Zimbabwe or New Zealand or somewhere and so will be avoiding us at Christmas? I do wish you’d come; I plan to make that chocolate strawberry trifle you love so much--and don’t lie to me; I know you loved it. I’m not daft, you know, I know when there’s been a serious depletion of the leftovers overnight.” 

“Actually, I was calling to inform you that I _do_ intend to be present to appreciate your delectable trifle.” 

“Oh, Mikey! I’m _so_ glad. Sherlock and John, of course, will be here; I know you don’t understand, but it means _so much_ to parents to have everyone together.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the nickname but didn’t mention it. He took a deep breath. He made communications with heads of state on a regular basis; why was making an announcement, that was sure to be received favourably, to his own mother difficult? 

“...and I _do_ hope you’ll spend the night, so that we can have breakfast on Christmas morning, instead of just coming for the day, but I understand you’re busy, so if that’s all you can manage, we’ll be happy to see you…” Mummy rambled on while Mycroft chose his words carefully. Sure, he’d threatened war before, but he’d never announced he was bringing home a boyfriend. 

“Mummy. I would like to bring a guest with me for Christmas.” 

“A guest?” There was a slight pause. “Oh! Is Anthea’s brother going on holiday again? It’s rather inconsiderate of him, really, to leave her with no family on Christmas, when he could surely travel over New Year’s instead. She’s certainly welcome here, dear.” 

Mycroft sighed. Six years ago, he’d left his parents in Anthea’s care for two hours when he was called away on extremely urgent business during the middle of a day out and about in London he’d promised them. Just two hours! But even Anthea’s legendary ability to deflect personal inquiries had failed. Two hours had been long enough for Mummy to learn things about Anthea’s life even _he_ hadn’t known, and to his horror, they had forged a friendship. The two women in the world who had any sort of influence on Mycroft Holmes in cahoots; what could _possibly_ go wrong?! Mycroft lived in constant fear of collusion. 

“No, not Anthea, Mummy. She will be spending the day with her brother’s family as usual. I am...seeing someone.” 

He heard his mother draw in a breath. First Sherlock, and now him, after years of stubborn bachelorhood? He hoped she didn’t faint. Perhaps he should have asked to speak with his father first…

“Oh, Mikey.” _Again!_ “Of course, of course you can bring him. What’s his name, and how long have you…?” 

“His name is Gregory. Detective Inspector Lestrade. I’m certain you will remember the name; both Sherlock and I have been closely acquainted with him for many years.” 

“Of course! The detective that Sherlock’s always working with! Oh, I’ve always wanted to meet him. I know you tried to spare us the details, but I know he was a good influence on Sherlock back when...well, you know, dear. And now you’re dating!”

“Yes. We have only recently decided to transition our association into a romantic relationship. Though only a few weeks have passed since this change, we feel our relationship to be quite serious and with the definite potential to be long-standing, and so I wish to introduce him to you.” 

“Oh, _Mycroft_.” Finally, she managed the full name! “I’m so happy for you. I’ve always worried about you being on your own without anyone to stop you from working too hard. We’d be delighted to meet him!” 

“Thank you, Mummy. We’ll be…” 

“Oh! Let me get your father so you can share your news with him!” 

Mycroft sighed. Well, at least she hadn’t screamed. He felt rather like a teenager with all of this fussing, but at least he could hope that his parents would express the bulk of their amazement now while there weren’t any witnesses. 

“Siger! Come listen; Mycroft has some news to share with you!” 

Mycroft heard a muffled “Yes, dear,” and shuffling noises he identified as his father locating the remote and pausing the film he had been watching. White Christmas (again), if he had heard it correctly. 

“How do you put this on speakerphone...is it this button?” 

“Mummy, it’s the small megaphone near the bottom left…” Mycroft tried to help, but no one was listening to him. 

“No, that wasn’t it...I hope I didn’t hang up on him. Are you still there, dear?” 

“Yes, Mummy.” 

“Ah, here it is! Say something, Siger, see if he can hear you.” 

“Hello, son!” 

“Hello, father. Yes, I can hear you clearly.” 

“Oh, Mycroft, share your news with your father!” Mycroft stifled yet another sigh. He felt like he was again a shy teenager being shuffled around to be praised for some school award by all the relatives. 

“Father, I am newly in a relationship, and I called to obtain your approval of my plan to introduce him to you at Christmas.” 

There was yet another pause. He could imagine the facial expressions they were making at each other, communicating without words the way that only couples who have been married for decades can do. 

“Of course, son. We would be delighted to meet your young man.” _I hope he’s not disappointed when he realizes that my partner is in his late forties_ , Mycroft thought. 

“Thank you, father. As I was telling Mummy, Gregory and I have been friends for many years, but only recently deepened our relationship into a romantic partnership.” 

“Siger, it’s that detective that Sherlock works with; you know the one, John often mentions him in his blog but doesn’t put his name.” 

“Oh, is that so? Well, Mycroft, you’ve done well, then, choosing someone who won’t be terrorized by your brother. Very smart, my boy.” Mycroft smiled to himself. His father may not be the genius his mother was, but he always caught the little social details. 

“Quite. The fact that he is inured to Sherlock’s mischief is certainly a point in his favour.” 

“We’ve seen him on the telly when he was doing a press conference!” His mother burst back in. “He is quite good looking!” 

“I find him to be so.” Mycroft rolled his eyes again, but couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “He is also more intelligent and capable than you would be led to believe from Sherlock’s little tales.” 

“Oh, of course, dear, we know better than to listen to the silly things your brother says when he’s in one of his moods. Oh, I _do_ look forward to meeting him and seeing the two of you together! Won’t this be a lovely Christmas, Siger?” 

“Yes, dear. The best we’ve had in some time; both our boys here and happy.” He sounded almost like he was choked up a bit. 

“Thank you, Mummy, Father. I...I find myself appreciating the season more this year than I have in years past.” 

As they discussed the details of when to arrive and what to bring and what the sleeping arrangements should be, Mycroft felt a bit of what he supposed was the “Christmas spirit” that everyone always insisted he should have more of. With the prospect of Gregory by his side, he wasn’t dreading the day as he so often had before. 

*****

It was Tuesday evening before Greg finally had the time to call his parents; Monday evening he’d been on a crime scene (mugging gone wrong, no need to call Sherlock) until well after ten and so by the time he collapsed onto his sofa it was entirely too late to disturb them. 

He sat at his kitchen table after washing the dishes and pot he’d used to boil pasta and ran his hand through his hair. Picking up the phone, he just looked at it for a moment. The combination of nerves and happiness took his breath away for a moment. It was just a phone call, but...this was _real_. The last few weeks had been so wonderful that they felt dream-like, but now he was going to tell his family and he and Mycroft would be known as a couple. His friendship with Mycroft had always been a rather compartmentalized thing; they had nearly always spent time one on one, uninvolved in each other’s daily lives outside of their meetings. But _now_ …

He couldn’t keep a stupid grin off of his face as he tapped the call button, partly from joy because I HAVE A BOYFRIEND, and partly from anticipating his family’s reaction. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Mum.” 

“Oh, Greg, dear, how are you?” 

“I’m good; just finished dinner. I was out late on a case last night, but I had time to cook tonight. How have you been?” 

“Oh, just fine, dear. My arthritis has been acting up a bit since the weather’s getting colder, and your father has been muttering all day, something about a leaky pipe he can’t seem to get quite right, but we really can’t complain. Did Beth call you about when we’re having Christmas?” 

“She texted me. Actually, that’s what I’m calling about...Christmas.” 

“Oh, no, don’t tell me you have to work again this year! If you can’t be off for Boxing Day, perhaps we can do it on the 30th...I’ll have to check with Debbie about Lewis’s internship…” 

“No, Mum, don’t worry, the 26th is fine; I’ve already had it approved at work. No, it’s, well...I’m seeing someone, and it’s, well, rather new but quite serious, and I wanted to ask if I could bring a guest.” 

“Oh, Greg!” his mother nearly squealed. “Of course! Oh, tell me all about her! How did you meet?” 

“Him. It’s a him this time. We’ve actually been friends for years…”

“Oh, sorry, dear, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m so happy to hear you have someone; I worry about you being on your own, it’s a mum thing, you know. And now I’m rambling, which I know you’re not surprised about. Go on, go on!” 

“Yes, um.” Greg couldn’t help but laugh with his mother. “Well, his name is Mycroft. I’ve told you about the detective I work with sometimes, Sherlock?” 

His mother hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, well, Mycroft is his older brother. As you can tell, their parents have rather odd taste in names. We met when Sherlock was...going through a really difficult time. We were both trying to help him through it, so we stayed in contact to talk about him. But, I was still married then…” 

Mrs. Lestrade hissed, but did not comment. She did _not_ like how _that woman_ had treated her baby, but it would do no good to keep going on about it now. 

“...so I never thought of him that way, and…”

“Honorable, unlike _some_ people…” she muttered. Okay, maybe just _one_ little comment about Vicky. 

“...he was very focused on his career, so we were just mates who would meet for a drink now and then. But over the last couple of years, we’ve found ourselves spending more time together, and we finally realized that we were attracted to each other after a party at his brother’s flat and then a really rough case he helped me out on.” They had agreed that their parents really didn’t need to know that it was Mycroft rescuing Greg from being held hostage by a cartel that had been the catalyst for the change in their relationship. 

“Oh, that’s lovely, dear. I’ve always said you should marry your best friend.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard you say that a time or two or twenty, Mum.” Greg smiled. “So, we haven’t been a couple for very long, but with having known each other so long first, it’s quite serious already. I’d like for you to meet him.” 

“Of course, dear! We’d be happy to have him! Are there any special Christmas treats he likes? Is he allergic to anything? I’m planning to do a ham, and…” 

“Mum, I’m sure what you have planned will be fine. He’s not allergic to anything that I’m aware of, but I’ll ask him to be sure. He probably won’t admit it, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth, so if nothing else he’ll enjoy the pudding.” 

“Oh, yes, dear, well, let me know if he mentions any special favourites.” 

“You’re wonderful, Mum. Since we Lestrades are getting together on the 26th, we’re going to spend the 25th with his family; his parents are in Sussex. So his Mum will feed him his favorites then; _I’m_ more worried about _my_ cheesy potatoes…”

“Oh, you cheeky thing, be nice or I’ll serve you nothing but Brussel sprouts. Oh! Here’s your father!” 

There was a scrambling in the background. “Arthur, phone! It’s Greg!” followed by his startled father hmphing as he tried not to drop the phone that had been thrust up to his ear. 

“Hmph. Hello?” 

“Hi, Dad.” 

“ _Ask him if he’s dating anyone!”_ He heard his mother hissing in the background. She was never terribly patient when she was excited.

“Arlene, you gave the phone to me; if you wanted to have the conversation you could have kept hold of it.” 

“Oh, _Arthur_. Ask him!” 

Greg snickered as his parents bickered the same way they had a hundred times before; he knew they were smiling by now too. 

“So, Dad, you got the flying phone treatment again?” 

“I’ll say. She nearly knocked my hearing aid out, throwing the phone at my head like that. ...Ow.” 

Greg couldn’t respond for laughing. 

“Alright, son, she’s going to keep poking me until I do her bidding and ask you a question I’m sure she’s already asked and knows the answer to since she’s so set on me…” 

“Oh, stop teasing me and just talk!” 

“Now, why should I ask a question that I can figure out the answer to myself? Obviously, he must be seeing someone if you want me to ask. It would be quite odd if you asked him and he said no and you wanted me to ask again. ...Ow.” 

“Oooh, men.” 

“Son, before I end up with bruises or your mother faints from excitement...ow...are you, by chance, seeing someone?” 

“Yes, Dad, I am. As a detective, I want to congratulate you on your outstanding deduction there.” 

Arthur snorted. “And are we to meet this mystery person?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I was calling about. His name is Mycroft, and it’s serious enough that I’d like to bring him home with me for Christmas to meet you all. I just hope he survives the noise.” 

“Of course, we’d be glad to meet your...boyfriend. Is that the right word?” 

“I guess; sounds a bit odd for two men in our forties, doesn’t it? But that’s fine, or partner, maybe. Meh, dating’s awkward when you’re over forty.” 

“Fairly awkward before forty, too; I remember one time your mother and I, and we couldn’t have been more than nineteen, went to her aunt’s and…” 

Greg and his father swapped a few stories before his mother wrestled the phone back into her possession to hash out the details of when to arrive and what to bring and whether they’d be spending the night. 

As soon as he got off the phone with his parents, he called Mycroft. 

“Good evening, Gregory.” 

“Hey, Mycroft. Just to let you know, I probably won’t be able to talk for long. I just got off the phone with my parents, and if I know my mother, she’s gossiping to whichever of my sisters picked up the phone first right now. I imagine I have about ten minutes before I get a call to interrogate me about my new relationship. Want to bet on whether it will be Debbie or Beth?” 

“I take it the conversation went well, then.” 

“Yes, it did. My mother is so happy that I’m bringing someone home with me. She wants to know if you have any food allergies, and what special Christmas treats you like. She usually makes piles of tarts and biscuits.” 

“Oh, dear. I’m beginning to understand why much of the populace gains weight during the Christmas season. My mother is making an enormous trifle, and then I won’t be able to resist a few tarts the next day.” 

“All worth it, though. You can have all the tarts you like so long as you don’t take my cheesy potatoes.” 

Mycroft just snorted. 

“Oh, love, I know it’s soppy, but just...it makes it feel real, dunnit? Me and you, spending Christmas together, meeting each other’s family.” 

“I do know what you mean, Gregory. The acknowledgement of our relationship by our family and friends gives a certain sense of stability to the endeavour.”

“Thank you for being willing to do all of this. I know it goes against your Scrooge act,” Greg teased.

“I’ve often scoffed at the excesses of the season, but I find myself anticipating experiencing them with you. Traditions surrounding the use of mistletoe in home decorating are of particular interest.” 

“I’d like to get you under some of it right now. I’d kiss down your perfect neck, unbutton your waistcoat, run my fingers down...oh, there’s Beth calling. I should probably hold the phone away from my ear when I answer; she’s likely to be shrill.” 

“Alright, dear...I do hope there is no permanent damage to your hearing. I’ll be here considering other mistletoe-related activities we might engage in at our next meeting.” 

“Keep talking, and that next meeting might be sooner than you think... Oh, she’s hung up. She’ll be trying again in thirty seconds, though.” 

“Go speak to your sister, Gregory.” 

“Goodnight, Mycroft.” 

“Goodnight, my dear Gregory.” 

Greg went to submit to the interrogation about his love life from his gleeful baby sister, and Mycroft looked around thoughtfully at the doorways in his home. There would be significantly more greenery by the next time his Gregory came to visit. 

**Author's Note:**

> A merry Mystrade Christmas to you all! Maybe by next Christmas I'll get around to writing about the actual celebrations!


End file.
